She raised one leg and gave me all her weight as a I dipped her. She either trusted me or wanted to fall.

Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.

Amsterdam is like the rings of a tree: It gets older as you get closer to the center.

I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater.

...And in freedom, most people find sin.

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

A taste so profound and complex that it can't even be compared to other tastes, only to emotions. Cheesy waffles, I was thinking, tastes like love without the fear of love's dissolution.

My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.

All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm.

I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbor, with all my crooked heart.

The universe is a gathering of nows that I spread before my feet like a landscape.

He saw the pleasure you took from your job every day of his life, and THAT was what he wanted.

If there is no justice in a country, who can claim that, that country is a country? An injustice country is just a rubbish bin!

All the drawing lacksis the final touch: To addeyes to the dragon

I had a lot of anger because I wasn't happy with the way I had been raised.

That's one of the horrors of war, that you can train a person, train them to hate, train them to kill. It's a terrible thought.

...You deserve to be happy. What can I do?" Don't send me away, I thought. He looked at me again. "What do you want?" "I want to taste an apple," I said. And your lips, I thought.

If Jesus does come down out of the clouds like a superhero, Christianity will stand revealed as a science . That will be the science of Christianity.

There is no impossibility to him who stands prepared to conquer every hazard. The fearful are the failing.

When the imagination is continually led to the brink of vice by a system of terror and denunciations, people fling themselves over the precipice from the mere dread of falling.